Cold December Night
by Lady Ataralasse
Summary: [Set after Season 9, Episode 6: "Heaven Can't Wait," but ignores the rest of Season 9] Castiel has a case of the Christmas Blues, but they're cleared up by a visit from Dean to go to the Rexford, Idaho's Christmas Tree lighting, which leads Castiel deciding to get a meaningful tattoo.


**Genre: **Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Shmoop/Fluff**  
****Pairing(s): **Castiel & Dean (mainly implied)**  
****Rating: **PG for language**  
****Word Count: **7,379**  
****Warnings: **None**  
****Summary: **[Set after Season 9, Episode 6: "Heaven Can't Wait," but ignores the rest of Season 9] Castiel has a case of the Christmas Blues, but they're cleared up by a visit from Dean to go to the Rexford, Idaho's Christmas Tree lighting, which leads Castiel deciding to get a meaningful tattoo. For those wishing this had more explicit Destiel, I left the ending open. They have the whole rest of that night, and it could go a lot of different ways. :)

* * *

Cold December Night by Michael Bublé

Stockings are hung with care  
As Children sleep with one eye open  
Well, now there's more than toys at stake  
Cause I'm older now but not done hoping.

The twinkling of the lights  
The scent of candles fill the household  
Old Saint Nick has taken flight  
With a heart on board so please be careful.

Each year I ask for many different things  
But now I know what my heart wants you to bring

So please just fall in love with me this Christmas  
There's nothing else that I will need this Christmas  
Won't be wrapped under a tree  
I want something that lasts forever  
So kiss me on this cold December night.

A tree that smells of pine  
A house that's filled with joy and laughter  
The mistletoe says stand in line  
Loneliness is what I've captured  
Oh but this evening can be a holy night  
Let's cozy on up by the fireplace  
And dim those Christmas lights

So please just fall in love with me this Christmas  
There's nothing else that you will need this Christmas  
Won't be wrapped under a tree  
I want something that lasts forever  
So kiss me on this cold December night.

They call it the season of giving  
I'm here, I'm yours for the taking  
They call it the season of giving  
I'm here, I'm yours

Just fall in love with me this Christmas  
There's nothing else that we will need this Christmas  
Won't be wrapped under a tree  
I want something that lasts forever  
Cause I don't wanna be alone tonight  
I'll wear you like a Christmas sweater  
Walk proudly to the mistletoe tonight  
I want something to last forever  
So kiss me on this cold December night.

They call it the season of giving  
I'm here, I'm yours for the taking  
They call it the season of giving  
I'm here, I'm yours

* * *

Castiel sighed, as he started shutting down the Gas n' Sip. The Christmas songs that played infinitely on the radio were starting to get to him. It surprised him a little considering how much he had enjoyed them at first.

Back around Thanksgiving, Castiel had been fascinated by the holiday preparations. He'd helped Nora, his boss, decorate their place of work with tinsel garland in metallic red and green with silver and gold stars and cutouts in the same colors wishing customers a happy holiday in various languages and traditions. The music on the radio station Nora tuned to played a variety of popular holiday tunes, most of them cheerful and those Castiel enjoyed, but it was the other ones that seemed to be catching his attention more and more lately. He heard _All I Want for Christmas is You_ for the forst time, and it struck a chord as his thoughts involuntarily turned to the one person he most wanted to be with on his first Christmas as a human. The more the cheerful songs spoke of family and togetherness, the more songs like _I'll Be Home for Christmas_ were like jagged icicles poking into his chest in some bastardized version of acupuncture. One artist in particular, Michael Bublé, seemed to make it all worse, not because Castiel did not enjoy his musical stylings, but because his voice, his delivery, they all reminded Castiel of another person who was also smooth and cocky with a hypnotic vocal resonance.

Now, in the second week of December, with every waking moment he spent at work full of one song after another, none of the songs were safe anymore, there were just varying degrees of pain. It was a shame really, Castiel recognized somewhere in his mind that under different circumstances, he would enjoy this music a great deal. If he were not being hunted by angels and demons alike, for example, he could be back at the bunker with the only family he'd had on Earth: the Winchesters. He listened to the lyrics and while he wasn't sure what some of them described, at the very least, Castiel could picture himself sitting around a table piled high with food with Kevin, Sam, and Dean eating, talking, laughing.

Castiel finally managed to afford a motel room before the cold really kicked in so he wasn't sleeping at work anymore. He couldn't get an apartment though, because there was no way for anyone to run a background check on someone who didn't have a human background, at least not one he could use. Jimmy Novak was a name that was known by too many of the people he was trying so hard to avoid. Castiel tried watching television at night just to feel like his room wasn't so empty. The problem was that it seemed like every channel was showing either a Christmas special or something Dean or Sam or Kevin would have enjoyed. There was just no escaping it.

Castiel was just finishing cleaning the restrooms when _Thankful_ came on the radio, and he found himself feeling so lonely he could barely stand it. He pulled out the burner phone Dean had given him and flipped through the few numbers Dean had programmed in for him, most belonging to one of the numerous burner cells he and Sam used. Castiel's finger wavered between scrolling through the numbers and the send button. Eventually, the song ended, and Castiel put the phone back in his pocket and went back to cleaning. He couldn't just call. He couldn't let them worry about him. They had enough to worry about. If he was going to call, he needed a reason.

_I'll be Home For Christmas_ came on the sound system, but this version was a little different. There were recordings of soldiers with messages for their families. At first, it was just another dig listening to a mother wishing she could enjoy her child's first Christmas with her, which led to more thoughts of wishing he could celebrate with his family, but then other thoughts began to surface. Faces began to swim before his eyes, faces of so many of his brothers and sisters, so many innocents, so many mortals, so many dead and gone by his hand. So many sins committed with the best of intentions. Castiel had truly paved his way to hell and now in his human life he would be punished with his own personal torment. He was condemned to remember his centuries as an angel, full of power and purpose and surrounded by family, his every decision shaped by his faith.

Castiel remembered when he found a new purpose and a new sort of faith all because he raised one soul from hell and believed that soul had a purpose he could believe in. While so many of his brethren became disillusioned and lost, Castiel found himself part of a new family championing free will with a passion and reckless bravery that was lost on his comrades. He had made so many choices since then, and as many mistakes as any other soul exercising freewill, but the greater the power, the greater the ripples and now he had lost everything. Those memories of his life as a divine being stood in sharp, unflattering contrast to his life as a humble mortal trying to make enough money to eat ramen noodles, dress at Good Will, and be sheltered in a shabby motel. Castiel had to learn how to assimilate as an adult with few mortal survival skills. Perhaps his worst torment was that though his new family was nearby (14 hours), he could not be with them. His very presence out the people he loved in danger. Powerless as he was, the one thing he could do to contribute to the lives that meant everything to them, was to be denied the comfort of their presence that he sorely needed.

"So are you going to the tree lighting tomorrow?" Nora's voice startled him out of his dark musings.

Castiel looked up sharply, startled. "I'm sorry. What is a tree lighting?"

Nora smiled. "Sorry Steve, I didn't mean to startle you. I was just asking if you're going to see the Christmas display and tree lighting at Winter Haven."

"What is 'Winter Haven?'"

"It's a neighborhood within walking distance of downtown, a gated community. The residents get together and decorate their houses and this park for Christmas and invite the community to come and walk through for a fee. The money goes to various charities. The highlight is a tree lighting in their park full of evergreen trees. Each tree is dedicated to a different cause and some are collection points for canned food, toys, clothes, coats, and so on. It's really beautiful. They light them tomorrow night at 6. You should go with your family. It really fills you with the Christmas spirit."

Castiel nodded, considering. This was a reason, a reason to call his family. His first real smile in weeks began to form. "Yes. Thank you Nora. I think I will do that."

As soon as he was alone, Castiel dialed the bunker and voice like bourbon, somehow smooth and harsh slid over the line and warmed his belly. "Cas?"

"Hello Dean. It's good to hear your voice again."

"Hey, you too. Is everything ok?"

Castiel thought about where his thoughts had been earlier in the evening, but decided that Dean wasn't asking about his emotional well being so his reply wouldn't be lying. "Yes Dean. Everything is fine. I just wanted to invite you and Sam and Kevin to come to a tree lighting with me tomorrow. I'm not sure precisely what that is, but it's supposed to fill you with the Christmas spirit. I'm also not certain what that entails, but perhaps as it involves the word "spirit" there is alcohol involved in this filling process."

Dean choked on a barking laugh. "That actually sounds like a reasonable conclusion to me." He looked over at Sam, and Kevin. Kevin could definitely use the distraction, but Sam was still being held together with angelic life support and the idea of taking Sam out into the world or leaving him alone in the bunker with Crowley restrained both sounded like horrible ideas. "Yeah, I'll check with the guys. What time is it?"

"Tomorrow at eight o'clock. I have to work until five, and I still do not have a car. If you could pick me up, that would be most helpful. I am certain I can obtain directions to this tree lighting by then and determine if we need to bring some sort of incendiary device."

"Incendiary device?"

Castiel could hear the confusion in Dean's voice, but it seemed like a logical conclusion to him. "To light the trees, Dean."

This time Dean's laugh broke through a little. "That's for more of a redneck Christmas Cas."

"Redneck? Do we need paint for that?" Castiel's brow furrowed further.

Dean just shook his head. "No Cas. We don't need paint or fire starting materials. The trees are lit with electricity. I'll see who's free to come out and meet you at work when your shift ends." Dean closed the phone and turned back to the library table where Sam and Kevin were eyeball deep in research.

"Was that Cas?" Sam asked hopefully?

Dean tried to keep his voice neutral. "Uh, yeah. That was Cas. He wanted to see if I could come visit tomorrow for this Christmas thing. You know Cas, he's never really gone through Christmas as a human you know?"

Sam nodded, puppy eyes starting to show in sympathy. "Yeah. Poor guy. It's like us as kids all over again."

Dean rubbed his hand over his face. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Poor guy."

"So when are we going?"

Dean saw Kevin's face light up at Sam's question. He hated having to tell them to stay, but it was the smart thing. At some point, he had to start doing the smart thing to protect the family he had left. The ensuing discussion went on for awhile, but eventually, Dean managed to convince Kevin and Sam to stay and keep working on a way to crack the angel tablet code and keep an eye on Crowley. Dean actually found himself suggesting that maybe if they kept working on it they could find a way to get the angels home so Cas could spend Christmas where he belonged, with them, his family. Dean nearly threw up in his mouth with the amount of hopeful Hallmark cheese infused into that idea. There was no way that would happen in the next two weeks at the rate they were going. Still, Sam and Kevin seemed to like the idea or at least they seemed to decide that they should let Dean go on his own, which added up to the same thing. Dean thought he caught an eye roll pass between them, but that could mean anything. Thos two bookworms were getting be regular peas in a freakin' pod. Dean shook his head and packed a duffel and some provisions for the road and headed out. It was a fourteen hour drive to Rexford, Idaho, a fair amount of it on I-80, and if he was going to make it, he had to get going.

Walking home that night after talking with Dean, Castiel felt lighter than he could remember feeling in a long time. The next day passed with a sort of nervous anticipation. Castiel worked hard to focus on his work, but he found it increasingly difficult as the end of his shift neared. Nora gave him a flier on the tree lighting with a map and guide to the houses when she came in that morning, and he spent his lunch break poring over it. At last, five o'clock came, and he punched out for the day. Castiel went outside to look for the Impala, surprised that he hadn't seen him yet. Snow had been falling all day, and it crunched cleanly under foot. After about half an hour, Castiel was quite cold, night had fallen, and he started to worry that Dean might not becoming after all, nor Sam or Kevin. Disappointment slid over him like a lead cape. Then he heard the familiar growl of a V8 engine and looked up to see Dean pulling into the parking lot.

Castiel stood up, moving towards the driver's side door. "It is good to see you Dean."

Dean glanced over at Castiel, noting his name tag and remembering his cover name. "Yeah, you too, uh, Steve."

"Where are Sam and Kevin?"

"Ah, they couldn't make it. Sam's been real tired lately and Kevin is still hard at work on that Angel tablet. He's a real studious guy."

Cas nodded caught between disappointment and a nervy anticipation. "I see. Well tell them I miss them when you go back."

An awkward silence hung between them now that they were together, alone, with an entire evening of Christmas spirit ahead of them. Castiel broke the silence first. "We should get going. The tree lighting begins in an hour. I have a flier." He held it out and Dean smiled, looking it over and noting the address.

"That's not too far. We'll make it. Afterwards, we can get some dinner."

"That would be good. I will be most hungry by then. It is difficult keeping up with all the demands of this body sometimes."

Dean slid back into his seat. "Yeah, well, some of that gets easier." He glanced over at Castiel, shivering in his work clothes. "Dude, don't you have a coat?"

"No. I had to throw my coat away. It was covered with blood, and I did not have enough money at the time to clean it."

Dean shook his head, frustrated worry making his voice rougher than usual. "You're a human now Cas. You have to dress for the weather. You need more than a trench coat to keep warm anyway. We're stopping at a Salvation Army on the way."

They pulled out, heading into town. After a quick stop to get Castiel a few pieces of outerwear, Dean parked the Impala at a vacant lot, designated for the event, and he and Castiel walked towards the entrance to Winter Haven. The sound of carols wafted over them, crowds of happy people, bundled up for winter.

Castiel pulled on a used coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, smiling at Dean gratefully. "Thank you Dean. I imagine I will get better at thinking of things like winter coats."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you will."

They paid admission at the gate and the woman handed them each twelve tickets. "They're for the trees." She explained. "Each tree in the park is designated for a different charity and has a collection box beside it. Every ticket you put inside is a dollar that one of our donors will match for that charity. It's a really wonderful program to help people in need and there are a lot of people in need out there. Some of them need things we wouldn't normally think about, so these trees help bring attention to those needs and give us a way to help."

Castiel took the tickets reverently. It was a way to help, to feel like he could do something that mattered. "Thank you."

Dean saw the way the woman's words affected Cas and nodded, thanking her as he took his tickets. They moved inside the neighborhood and Dean kept shooting concerned glances at Castiel. He looked troubled. Dean was about to ask what was bothering him, when Castiel pulled away from him, a look of wonder transfixing his face. Dean started to ask what he saw and then the first house can into view.

Lights of every color decorated a two story house in a way that made it bejeweled with bright lights in blue, green, pink, and red that it almost hurt to look. Castiel blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to adjust.

"LED lights." A man beside him grumbled. "They save power, but they're not so easy on the eyes."

"Beauty rarely is." Castiel murmured. "It's hard to look directly at something of true splendor." Castiel exchanged a soft look with Dean and then looked away shyly back at the house.

The man gave Castiel a strange look and moved along.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh yeah, they are kind of pretty, huh?"

"What are they?"

"They're Christmas lights, Cas. People use them to decorate their homes and Christmas trees."

"Christmas trees? Yes, I've seen pictures."

"Maybe after we get some dinner, we'll pick you up a tree for your room."

"I would like that Dean."

They moved on and Castiel found he couldn't stop smiling as each new house along their path dazzled him with some new display. A couple of them had lights that synced to music playing from large speakers. Others had life size nativity scenes, some with inflatable figures, others done in lights. They all had images of an angel, usually Gabriel. Castiel seemed a little saddened by them, but he followed the crowd.

Finally, they came to large grove of evergreen trees where everyone seemed to be gathering. A choir from the local high school sang and the community band played accompaniment to a carol sing. Castiel just took it all in, watching, enjoying. Dean watched Castiel at first, concerned because he still felt like something about his friend was off, but in spite of himself, he found he got caught up in the festivities. It reminded him of Christmas Caroling with his mom and dad when she was pregnant with Sam, the only Christmas they all spent together.

As the last carol, "Joy to the World" played, the lights in the grove came on and all the trees were illuminated. People started milling around them, putting tickets into boxes. Dean and Castiel started to move among them, the throngs of people forcing them to give up personal space. The first set of trees was decorated with items related to their cause. One had mittens and hats and scarves on it and people from the crowd came up to add their own donations to the tree. Another had toys and felt Christmas package ornaments showing a photo of a child on one side and a Christmas toy wish on the back. People from the crowd were pulling the ornaments off that tree, to fill Christmas wishes. One tree had only lights, but was surrounded by shoeboxes wrapped in paper and filed with toys and school supplies for children around the world. Another was decorated with ornaments made from small empty food cans and boxes of dry goods where they were accepting donations for the community food bank and so on. Castiel put a ticket in each of them, staring at his tickets as if he hoped they would multiply.

Dean handed Castiel his strips of tickets, which Castiel accepted gratefully.

The next set of trees were covered with colored ribbons representing their cause and photographs of those in need on them. One tree was covered with pink ribbons and photographs of women who were fighting breast cancer, had beaten it, or had died from it. Another in blue ribbons for human trafficking with photos of missing persons suspected of being victims. One tree was decorated with tin foil dog tags the size of sardine cans for fallen soldiers. Castiel paused at that one for a long time.

Finally, they came to a tree decorated with doves made of feathers. Each dove had a ribbon around it with a series of names scrawled onto it. There was a table near the tree and people were coming up to the table and writing names on a ribbon, attaching them to a dove and hanging it on the tree.

Castiel read the sign beside this tree. "It says these ribbons have the names of lost loved ones on them." He got even quieter than he had been before and Dean had enough.

"Ok, come on Cas, what are you thinking? Something's been bothering you all night."

"You know, Dean. I've been thinking a lot about the dead lately, about the blood on my hands. Angels, innocents, mortals. . . there's so much blood Dean."

Dean felt his throat constrict. It was a sensation he generally chased with whiskey, but he had a feeling that wouldn't go over at a public, family-friendly event. "I'm familiar with some of that feeling."

"It seems like so many people spend this time of year focusing on what they've lost, what they don't have, what others don't have. I suppose it's contagious."

"Yes, that's actually part of why I generally avoid the holiday."

Castiel continued as if Dean hadn't spoken. "You know when I was an angel, I used to have the names of the lives I'd lost, and the lives I'd taken inscribed onto the bones of my wings in Enochian, so I would never forget them, so I could carry them with me."

"Very poetic."

"Thank you. It's just now, in this body, my wings are gone, those bones, those carvings are gone. I'm afraid I'm starting to forget all the names. My human mind has limitations on its memory capacity." His voice was rough with grief.

Dean thought about his own burden to bear and turned to Cas. "I know a little something about the weight of carrying the dead, Cas. If you can't forgive yourself or let it go and God knows, I can't seem to do either of those things myself, maybe it's better that you're starting to forget some of them."

Castiel turned to Dean with such a look of pain that Dean wished he had said something else. He rushed to elaborate, touching Castiel's arm in comfort.

"Cas, look I'm not trying to be cold about it. It's just a lot for one person to carry. Especially without a drinking problem." Dean chuckled, but Cas didn't quirk a smile, so Dean went on. "Look, you remember a lot more than a human can experience in a hundred lifetimes, and you're still adjusting to being human and learning how to navigate that. Like you said, your human brain can't hold it all. You need space to remember things like how to order Pay-Per-View or how to grill a burger." Again, no smile. "I'm just saying cut yourself a break. You've done a lot of good too. You helped save the world."

Castiel turned the full weight of his piercing blue gaze on Dean and who took a step back. Even without his grace, Cas could still make him aware that he had been a divine being for far longer than humans had roamed the world. When he looked at him like that, Dean felt like Cas could still see right through him, read every fact, every feelings. It was unnerving to say the least, but also somehow comforting. Cas knew absolutely everything about him, and Cas still wanted him around and not because they were blood or any sense of obligation, but because somewhere inside of him, Cas saw something in Dean that was redeeming enough to care about. It made Dean feel like maybe he mattered; maybe he had been worth saving.

"Dean, you helped save the world too. Why can't you forgive yourself?"

Dean shrugged, pulling back a little. "I don't know. I guess because I feel like they should be remembered, like maybe remembering them, regretting their deaths, the role I played in it no matter how small means I'm accountable. It keeps me from liking the job too much and forgetting what I'm trying to save, what lines I can't cross, and what makes me human. Sam, Kevin, Charlie, You, you help me hold onto my humanity. You remind me why I need to carry that weight." Dean looked at the doves on the tree.

"I just can't forget them Dean. I feel like if I forget too many of them, I'll forget who I am. I'm afraid I'll lose all sense of my life before I lost my grace. I'm afraid the only life I'll remember is the life of a Gas and Sip sales clerk who didn't even know to buy a winter coat. I'll forget I was ever capable of anything remarkable or useful and resign myself to a life of mediocrity until all chance of making a difference in this world for good is gone. As it is, most days I feel like the only good I can do it call you and Sam when I find out about something horrible."

Dean patted him on the shoulder encouragingly. "Hey, you killed that angel that was ganking people left and right."

Castiel's shoulders slumped, shaking his head. "I'm still not a hunter Dean. Most of my experience fighting the "good fight," as they say, is with my angelic powers, which are now gone. As you said Dean, without those powers I'm nothing but a 'baby in a trench coat.'"

Dean's face flashed the impatient fury again. "I should have never said that to you. If I'd had any idea how many times you'd throw back at me something I said in utter frustration and bitterness to put yourself down, I would never have said it."

"If you'd have any idea I was working with Crowley and was part of the reason Lilith had risen in the first place you would have said worse and had a right to." Castiel's tone was bitter, but Dean knew he was also probably right.

"You're _not_ useless Cas." Dean argued. "We are going to figure this out. I'm not giving up on you. Some way, somehow, eventually we'll get you back home where you belong. Until then, you just have to figure out how to live as a human and how to contribute from where you are now."

"The idea of returning to the bunker with the rest of you someday soon is a great comfort to me Dean, but right now I'm just not sure how to manage all of this."

Castiel sounded so sad, so defeated. Dean thought about taking his hand, but there were so many people around and the action felt very private somehow, like if he did that somehow everyone would know their very personal pains and Dean just couldn't feel that exposed, even for Cas. Instead, Dean looked at the tree of doves, considering.

After a few minutes, Dean turned back to Castiel. "You know, maybe you had the right idea putting those names on your back like that. I mean, I know that Sam would say that you were literally carrying your sins on your back or some psycho-babble crap like that, but I think that maybe having those names literally etched into you, so you _can't_ forget them takes some of the weight off. I think that maybe it allows you to know you'll never forget without having to spend so much energy every second of every day making sure you remember those names, those sins. It's like that guy from the X-Men movie?"

"As in formerly a man?"

Dean continued as if Cas hadn't spoken. "You know who I'm talking about."

"No Dean. I do not."

"That teleporter . . . What was his name?"

"I can't possibly have any idea Dean."

Dean continued to talk over Cas's protests. "Nightcrawler; that's it. He had all those scar tattoos on his skin, one for every sin he said. And he was pretty well adjusted. You know . . . that's a good idea."

"Dean, still I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know what Cas? I have an idea for how you can carry those names as a human. It's like those doves with names on them."

"What are you talking about Dean? I cannot possible fit enough doves into my motel room."

"No, not doves. You could get tattoos, one for every name."

"Dean that would be a lot of tattoos and that many designs might look odd on my skin."

"No not doves . . ." Dean pondered. "Wings. You could get wings on your back, not girly wings, but manly ones, that look a little like what yours used to look like. You could put the names in among the feathers, real small so they all fit."

Castiel considered the feasibility of this plan. "I've been adding to that list for so long . . . Dean, I'm not sure I can remember them all."

"It's ok." Dean reassured him. "The artist can just draw the wings for now and you can start keeping a list. Then just have the artist add names as you save enough money."

Castiel considered, reflecting on the tree and the names. "Yes, Dean. I think I like that idea. Where can we go to accomplish this?"

"I think I saw a tattoo parlor in town on our way in. Let's check it out and see if anyone there can handle that sort of project. If not, we'll find someone who can."

Dean and Castiel stayed by the tree a few moments more and then slowly made their way back to the Impala. Dean drove them back along the main drag until they came to the tattoo parlor he thought he'd seen when they were driving to the tree lighting. Dean parked outside and he and Cas went into _Raven's Wing_. Dean shoved down his derision at the name of the place and started checking out the art displayed on the walls, looking for wings. At least the name of the place was promising for finding the right style of wings. Castiel started along the other side of the room. After about forty minutes, Castiel called Dean over.

"These. This artistic rendering of wings looks like a reasonable approximation of mine."

Dean took a look at the image Castiel indicated. The wings had long feathers with pointed tips and realistic edges showing off the texture of feathers. There were a series of pictures of a client next to the image showing the wings starting in the upper middle back flanking the spine, wrapping slightly around the rib cage and arching over the arms and shoulders so that when he raised his arms, from the back, he seemed to be spreading his wings. "Yeah, that looks perfect. Very realistic and not at all girly." Dean continued looking at it. considering.

An older man, bearing a striking resemblance to Mickey Rourke in the Expendables came up to them, clearly the owner. "You gentleman looking to get some ink?"

Castiel turned to Dean, confused by the question and Dean turned to the artist. "Yeah, my friend here would like to get these wings on his back, but there are some modifications he was thinking about. See, my buddy here was a soldier, and he would like to get some names of his fallen battle buddies inked in as part of the wings, maybe in among the feathers."

The man nodded. "Interesting idea. I'm Mo by the way."

"I'm Dean and this is Cas." They exchanged handshakes.

"Nice to meet you both. Cas, how about you take off your shirt so I can get a look at the canvas?"

Castiel strips off his outer layers, his work shirt and undershirt. As he strips off the last layer, Dean's breath catches. Cas hears it and turns, so Dean covers it with a cough. Mo notices, but doesn't comment. It's not his business. He just starts to study Castiel's back, the planes and angles, the condition of the skin, he was surprised by the almost absence of back hair.

Dean watches the way Mo is looking at Castiel, the focus and starts to feel a sort of protective urge rise up. He's not sure he likes the way this guy is looking at Cas. Then Dean felt himself calm down as he reminds himself that Mo isn't looking at Cas as a piece of meat, but as an artist studying his medium.

Mo's voice cuts into Dean's thoughts. "You know, you have amazing skin, not even a mole of scar. A perfect, blank canvas. You want this to cover the same area as Tahmo here?" Mo indicated the photograph series showing the wings Castiel selected.

"Yes."

"About how many names are you thinking?"

"Thousands." Castiel deadpans.

To Dean's surprise, Mo doesn't even crack a smile. He just nods, still considering. Studying the image and Castiel's back, circling him slowly considering. "I have an idea for that."

Dean can almost see the man manipulating images in his mind like Tony Stark with a smart board projection. "What are you thinking?"

"How about I do an outline of the wings, and I can write the names in a long script inside each feather as texture. So from a distance, the names look like a line, up close, the name is there. That way the names are more private and I figure I can fit about a dozen per feather that way."

Castiel's eyes lit up, visualizing the result. "I think that sounds like exactly what I would like."

Dean decided to start the discussion about price, since Cas wouldn't know how to have that conversation. "I imagine this job won't be cheap, all that work. Can he do it in stages like maybe start with the outline and a couple dozen names?"

Mo nodded. "It won't be cheap, and it'll take a long time. That's extremely detailed craftsmanship. On the other hand, you don't need to do it all at once. I could just do the outline of the wings at first, and you can add the names slowly over time as you have money. In fact, I could just do the back section of the wings or the shoulders to start and expand it as time goes on."

Dean nodded. "What about after care? My friend lives alone."

Mo raised an eyebrow. "He can come in for $5 a day and we'll clean it and put the ointment and lotion on during the healing process."

Castiel nodded in agreement. "That sounds most satisfactory. What do you need next?"

"Well, I'll take some pictures of your back and some measurements and sketch the wings out to fit. If you can give me the first set of names so I can practice them too, that's great. Whether you want me to do the names at first or not, at least it'll give me a chance to see how it'll fit with the design and modify it if I need to so the overall image looks the way you want. Then you can come in and look at it, and I'll schedule you in for the first pass."

Castiel was eager to get started. "Can you fit me in soon?"

Dean stepped forward explaining, "I'm only in town until tomorrow, and my buddy would like it if I was here for the process. See we, uh, served together for his last tour, and we know a lost a lot of the same people."

Mo nodded knowingly. "A foxhole sort of thing, huh? Sure. My schedule's actually clear in the morning tomorrow. I was going to take off, but seeing as how you've both served our country, I'll make a special exception. And I have to admit, I love the inspiration on this one. I'll stay up to sketch it out tonight. Nothing like the rush of inspiration on a new project." Mo studied the way Dean was looking over the images of the tattoo. "You looking to get one yourself?"

Dean had been considering it. He liked his own idea behind the design, and the wings Cas picked out were incredible. "I'm not sure about the full back for myself. I don't really have an avenging angel image for myself, but maybe just the shoulder-bicep wings. I don't have quite as many names." Yet. Dean left that word unsaid, but he knew he'd add to the list, and if he got the tattoo, add the names to his design.

Mo nodded again. "Well think about it and let me know. For now, let me get those measurements and I'll see you both in the morning around 9."

They exchanged pleasantries, and Mo gave then an estimate on the back of his card before heading out. Dean noted that Castiel seemed more happy and relaxed now. "So. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about we stop at Boston Market or whatever the closest cousin is around here and get some Christmas dinner takeout?"

"That sounds good, Dean. Thank you for taking me to that tattoo parlor. I would not have thought to ask all those questions."

Dean grinned. It was satisfying finally having a problem he could help solve without a body count no matter how much he enjoyed the job some days. "It's fine Cas."

"I like the idea of having Christmas dinner takeout. I understand that is an important part of the Christmas celebration in every belief system."

"Uh, yeah. no problem."

There was a Walgreens near the _Turkey Leg_ and it got Dean thinking. "Say, how about we pick up a couple decorations to dress your motel room up for Christmas?"

"I would like that Dean."

So before getting their food, they headed into Walgreens. Dean used one of his credit cards to buy an artificial Charlie Brown Christmas tree that came with the DVD, another DVD four pack with other holiday classics, and a thick, blue blanket. He also picked up some eggnog, sadly without actual rum, but Dean knew Cas needed to be sober before he had a tattoo done and oddly enough, Dean didn't feel like he really needed the booze at the moment. Castiel picked up a steno pad and a pack of bic pens. Dean wondered what they were for and Castiel simply replied, "Names."

On the way back from picking up food and supplies, Castiel started making his list in the steno pad: Anna, Balthazar, Ellen and Jo Harvelle, Bobby Singer, Jimmy Novak . . .

Dean saw Cas making his list out of the corner of his eyes and thought about who else would be on his list. Mary and John Winchester, Jess Moore (for Sam), Linda Tran (for Kevin), Rufus, Caleb, Father Jim Murphy, Ash, Ronald Resnik, Madison, Emma, Amy Pond, Sheriff Melvin Dodd, Phil Amichi, Nancy Fitzgerald, Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen, Frank Deveraux . . . he could go on for quite awhile. He might need to consider the full back wings if he got his own tattoo.

After picking up their food, Cas directed Dean back to his home room at the White Swan Motel. Dean looked around inside. There wasn't much. It was fastidiously clean, but as for possessions, Castiel had next to nothing. He had salt lines at the windows and doors, and as Castiel opened the cabinets in his kitchenette, Dean noticed a few basic hunting supplies like salt, holy water, duct tape, some yellow liquid in a lidded mason jar with a narrow paintbrush rubber banded to it, and rope mixed in with a boxes of cereal and crackers and cans of soup and tuna.

"You know, I'm surprised you don't have anti-angel sigils up."

Castiel looked back at him a strange look on his face. "I do Dean, but they can only be seen under a black light. It seemed more subtle."

"Blacklight?" Dean put it together and cringed before shaking his head in admiration. "That's brilliant. Gross, but brilliant." He remembered something as he glanced around the room at Cas's meager possessions. "Hey, I have an early present for you." Dean went out to the car to fetch it. When he came back, Dean handed Castiel a large package wrapped in red and green paper.

Castiel accepted the package, puzzled. "I thought it was customary for people to not open presents until Christmas day."

"Yeah, well sometimes among friends you open gifts whenever you see each other in December because you can't always be there on Christmas Day the way you want."

Castiel nodded, understanding the double meaning behind Dean's words. "That makes sense. Thank you Dean."

"I mean, I'm still hoping Kevin and Sam will get things sorted out so we can have you home by then, but just in case . . . Sam gave this to me to give to you from all of us."

Castiel pulled off the paper at Dean's instruction and found half a dozen flannel plaid shirts in a variety of colors.

Dean grinned. Sam really hit it on the money sometimes. "Why don't you see if they fit?"

Castiel tried on one of the shirts, a blue one that matched his eyes while Dean fixed them plates, half watching, but trying to not make it weird that he was watching.

When Cas had the shirt buttoned, Dean came over and straightened it and stepped back, looking Castiel over. "There." Dean said, presenting the shirts. "Now, you're a Winchester."

Castiel smiled, pleased and gave Dean a rare hug. Dean hugged him back letting the hug linger. "I'm sorry Cas. I really am. I wish you could be with us at the bunker right now and that you weren't going through all this stuff with your own guilt on your own, but you can call whenever you need to and if you want, I can come out whenever you're having your tattoo worked on."

"I would like that Dean. I understand why I cannot be with you right now. I do miss our talks though. I suppose I should continue making that list of names for tomorrow."

Dean started to pull back, but held onto Castiel's shoulders as he spoke. "How about we enjoy our Christmas dinner and watch Charlie Brown's Christmas, so you can see why your fake tree looks that way? After that, you can finish your list and we'll pass out watching the rest of those Christmas specials we picked up."

"That sounds like an excellent plan, Dean."

Castiel enjoyed his chicken and garlic mashed potatoes, while he watched the cartoon Dean had such fond memories of watching with Sam. He felt so peaceful sitting there cozily on the couch with Dean, celebrating Christmas a little early, feeling like he had family again.

Dean kept watching Castiel's face to see his reaction to the cartoon, remembering watching Sam's face light up as a kid when he saw it for the first time. As they sat there eating dinner, drinking eggnog, and watching _A Charlie Brown Christmas_, Dean found himself wishing that he was right about what he said to Sam and Kevin. He hoped that maybe for once, things could go right for them and they could managed to send the angels back to heaven and bring Castiel home for Christmas this year. Dean knew exactly how absurd it was, how unlikely, but honestly at the moment he didn't care. Maybe the tree lighting had gotten to him, maybe it was the eggnog, maybe it was being curled up on a crappy motel bed watching nostalgic Christmas specials with one of the best friends he'd ever had, or the realization that he was getting a full back tattoo in the morning, but for the night at least, it felt like Christmas and anything was possible.

* * *

For those wishing this had more explicit Destiel, I left the ending open not sure if I'll take a stab at continuing it or not. They have the whole rest of that night, and it could go a lot of different ways. :)


End file.
